God's Not Dead

I feel like my posts circle between homeschooling, homesteading, crafts, humor, and faith.

In this post, I'm back to faith.

I have so struggled with my faith for the past couple (read: at least 3) years. I watched the movie, "God's Not Dead" with my kids tonight.

It was interesting watching the movie because I feel like I can both feel the passion of the young man and empathize with the pain of the professor. Whoa now....easy. Don't call me an atheist, slobber at the mouth, and ban me from Christian society.

I'm a Christian. I've been in the "joy in my soul, mountain moving faith" camp; and, I have been in the "does God even hear me" camp. For the past several years, I've been in the latter camp. Well, that's incorrect. Prior to a couple of years ago, I was in the latter camp. Presently, I feel I have no camp.

I don't want to struggle with my faith. I don't want to have doubts and fears and insecurities. I don't want to give hope to others while saving none for myself. It's not a soul happy place to be in.

If you have read any of my posts, you know I am a preacher's daughter. I was raised in church. I should know that God is good....that He is there even when you don't feel Him...that no matter what you are going through, He is in control.....that He answers prayers. But, sometimes, I feel like the professor when he said that God says no a lot. I feel like such a blasphemous person just typing that. But, I know where it comes from.

It comes from pain.

Pain makes people do some crazy things. I mean, take physical pain.... I have had migraines so bad that I honestly think my head would feel better if it were put in a vise grip and squeezed till it popped. People take all kinds of medication for physical pain.... they will search and search for a remedy...something to ease the torment.

Switch over to emotional/spiritual/mental pain. Short of medicating yourself flat, you have to *feel* it. You have to go about your day, your year, your life, looking perfectly whole on the outside, while struggling with this brokenness inside you. And so you pray...and you follow the formula....well, the one most churches list out:  go to church every time the doors are open, give of your time in every area possible, dress right, speak right, walk right, and don't drink, smoke, or cuss....and your heart is BLEEDING out...and you can't figure out where God is. You can't figure out why this one thing you're praying for (that's Biblically based) isn't happening.

Your mind starts spinning. "It must be me."

"I'm not doing enough."

"I'm not being enough."

"I'm not spiritual enough."

And you hope until you're afraid to hope....because if you exhaust that hope, there's nothing left. So, you bundle up that fragile little feather of hope and you lay it down somewhere so that you know, all hope isn't lost. You aren't actively using it, but you feel like as long as you keep it safe, you still have hope.

But the thing is, I wouldn't even be writing this unless I felt the pull....the desire....the knowledge that He's there. I KNOW He's there....and that scares me a little, because if I know He's there and I know I have a bit of hope lying over in the corner, I know that I could pick that up and tear down this chaffing wall I've built to protect me.